


Plan B

by JoMarch, RyoSen



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMarch/pseuds/JoMarch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyoSen/pseuds/RyoSen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tuxedo, denim cutoffs, a board game, and excessive amounts of alcohol.  This takes place during the Bartlet for America campaign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plan B

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Very, very vague for _Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc._  
>  Disclaimer: Something which will do us very little good if Aaron decides to sue, but just for kicks, we'll say that he owns these kids, not us.

"Nobody told me this was a pro-choice hotel. That's so cool."

CJ turns her attention from the game of Scrabble she and Toby are playing and looks at me. "What are you talking about, Donna?"

I lift myself off the bed where I collapsed after my third trip to the mini-bar and point to the sticker plastered on the wall. It features a coat-hanger inside a circle with a line through the center. "No more coat-hanger abortions, see?" I explain.

CJ is fascinated. "My God, I never even noticed. Maybe somebody's been sticking those things in hotels all over Texas. Maybe it's like a feminist insurgency. Maybe the revolution is finally here." CJ's made four trips to the mini-bar, by the way.

"Kick ass," I mutter. "The patriarchal establishment and its lackeys will be completely at our mercy. We'll make the bastards pay." I pause, contemplating this glorious future. "Except for Josh," I amend. "Because he's beautiful."

"Josh is what?" CJ asks. She sounds as though she's choking.

I'm not worried. The Heimlich maneuver is exactly the sort of thing Toby would know.

"In his tux," I clarify. "When he left with Leo and Sam for the thing with Governor Bartlet. Josh was beautiful in his tux."

"Oh, God," CJ mutters. "Mandy quit three days ago, and already it's started."

"Sam is pretty, but Joshua is beautiful."

"You have to do something about this," Toby tells CJ.

"So very beautiful." I close my eyes, so I can see him again -- black jacket, crisp white shirt and the way he smiled when I offered to fix his tie.

"Why should I be the one to do something about it? Why am I the den mother?" CJ asks. "Why can't you take him aside and discuss this situation man to man?"

"I don't do that sort of thing," Toby replies.

"Josh, Josh, Josh," I murmur to myself. "Hot boy Joshua."

"The revolution is here, Toby," CJ reminds him. "And it's that sort of attitude that's going to make us force you up against the wall."

"I wanna force Hot Boy up against the wall," I mutter.

"Okay, Donna," CJ says, "until further notice, consider the mini-bar off limits."

"Texas is too hot," I say. "Too hot for my Hot Boy Joshua."

"Remember the revolution," CJ tells me.

"I thought it was the Alamo you were supposed to remember in Texas," Toby says.

"I was surprised at how small that place was," CJ comments.

"The Alamo?" I ask.

"It's a small, dark space," CJ explains.

"I'd like to get my Hot Boy alone in a small, dark space."

CJ points to the pro-choice sticker again. "Try to focus on the revolution, would you?"

"Up against the wall with my Hot Boy in a small, dark space." My mind is full of such happy images.

"Oh, for the love of God," Toby says. "There is no revolution. There is no pro-choice message. Read the writing underneath the sign. It clearly says, 'Caution: Fire Sprinkler. Contact will cause waterflow.' It's a warning. It's there to prevent the brain dead from hanging their clothes on the sprinkler above it and getting wet."

"Wet," I murmur. "Dripping wet. My Hot Boy Joshua up against the wall and dripping wet. There's a happy thought."

I think I fall asleep after that.

***

Sam leans over and mumbles something unintelligible in my general direction.

I assume he's trying not to disrupt the Governor's speech, but really -- it's ten minutes in front of ranchers in San Antonio. He could pretty much get up there and say anything and it wouldn't win him a single vote; Governor Bartlet is a liberal academic and a Yankee to boot.

I make a point of speaking in an audible tone. "What?"

"Your tie is crooked," Sam repeats, still using his inside voice.

Well, this is definitely the most interesting thing I've heard all night. My hand flies immediately to my bow tie, and I attempt to use a nearby "Texas-sized" spoon as a mirror.

"We have to go," I decide gleefully. 'Cause Donna tied my tie. Clearly, it's her fault if it's crooked. And I should tell her about it as soon as possible. You know, before she changes out of those denim cutoffs she had on when I left.

She looks really hot in those cutoffs.

Not that I have anything but boss-like respect and affection for my assistant, you understand. My point is that, for purely aesthetic reasons, I'd like to see Donna's long, bare legs -- Did you know she paints her toenails this dark, blood red? -- in those shorts.

It's a bit toasty in here. Perhaps I should procure another refreshing beverage.

Sam, who has been watching me with that slightly confused look of his, follows me toward the bar. "Go where?" He leans one elbow on the polished wood and turns most of his attention back to the Governor.

"Go see Donna in those shorts," I explain with a decisive nod. Then I ask the bartender for another Shiner Bock. Texas is a strange, strange place -- a place in which, I should point out, the Democratic Party is represented by people who disagree with 75% of the Democratic platform -- but they make some damn good beer.

I have been enjoying the beer all evening. At first, it was to forget the sight of Donna in those shorts. Then it was to get through the schmoozing. Now it's Donna again. Those shorts...

"What?" Sam asks, not taking his eyes off of the Governor.

"The hotel," I answer, impatiently tapping my fingers on the bar. "She's at the hotel."

"Donna."

"Yes."

"In shorts," Sam glances over at me with an appraising look on his face.

I nod, happily remembering the sight of Donna splayed on the bed in my hotel room, her long, bare legs dangling over the edge as she watched me dress.

Okay, so that sounds a lot more satisfying when I leave out the part about Donna reciting arcane information about the Texas legislature -- they only meet every other year; that's crazy! -- with the occasional degrading remark about my inability to dress myself. But I ask you: What man can put on cuff links unaided?

Besides which, who wouldn't plead helplessness if it meant Donnatella Moss would lounge around your hotel room half-naked? 'Cause the shorts were what really caught my attention, but the top she had on...

"Did you see that thing she was wearing?" I ask absently.

"The shorts?"

"No." I gesture at my chest. "The skimpy shirt thing."

"It's called a halter top," Sam says.

I glance over at him with a smirk. "What, are you Versace?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What possible reason could you have to know that?"

"Donna told me," Sam answers defensively.

I grin stupidly as the image from earlier pops back into my head. "Donnatella?"

"Yeah. You know, your assistant who's wearing shorts and a halter top back at the hotel." I'm not sure why, but Sam sounds amused.

I nod emphatically. "Have you seen her legs, Sam?"

"Yes."

"They're absolutely -- Wait. When have you seen her legs?" I demand.

Sam grins at me. "Donna and CJ were sunbathing the other day."

The bartender plops the beer down next to my elbow, but I barely notice. I am too busy imagining all of that alabaster skin, which is interfering with my ability to breathe properly. Or speak.

In fact, it's a good thing my beer arrived, because I'm suddenly quite parched.

Sam, damn the man, looks entirely too amused. "It was Austin, I think. They took two hours off, stripped down, and laid by the pool."

I blink.

Then I blink again, because the image is so much clearer when my eyes are closed to the sight of ranchers in tuxedos and cowboy boots.

"Sunbathing?" I manage after a long, heartening swallow of beer.

"Yes."

"In..." I trail off and gesture vaguely at my torso.

"Bathing suits." Sam is grinning like a bloody idiot.

"Bikinis?"

"Josh," Sam laughs, "you're doing Rocky the Flying Squirrel."

I glare at him and attempt to come up with a witty comeback. "I'm flying?" Okay, so my attempt failed. I've had three beers and the majority of my attention is still on my leggy assistant.

"No," Sam answers, "you sound like a giddy twelve-year-old girl."

I make a concerted effort to lower my voice. "Bikini, Sam? Donnatella Moss was in a bikini and you didn't come get me?"

Sam is just chuckling away. "You were at a fundraiser."

"So?"

"With Ann Richards."

"So?"

"Josh, you love Ann Richards!"

"So?"

"Josh--"

"Donna," I interrupt, "in a bikini!"

"Yes," Sam grins, glancing past me at a nearby table. My voice may have been a bit loud on that last remark.

I try to keep calm. "You should have paged me."

"I was busy." He's grinning. I know that grin. That's the 'I'm holding the punchline for the exact perfect moment' grin.

I narrow my eyes. "Busy?"

"Yes," he nods. "I was on sunscreen duty. My hands were full."

"What?" I screech. Some old-school Texas patrician with her hair teased to alarming heights shushes me.

Sam touched Donna? He slathered sunscreen all over -- I feel sick.

"Sunscreen duty," Sam repeats joyfully. "I had to do the places they couldn't reach."

In the dimmest, non-drunk and un-obsessed recesses of my mind, the sudden silence registers. It's that uncomfortable joke-falling-flat silence, in which the quietest whisper is audible clear across the room.

However, the rest of my beer-soaked, bikini-blinded brain causes me to blurt, "They couldn't just do each other?"

And then I freeze.

Horrified, Sam is staring past me toward the podium. Where, presumably, the Governor is currently plotting my sacrificial death. I can feel the attention of hundreds of people, their gazes a tiny prickling sensation on the back of my neck.

Ever so slowly, I turn around.

The Governor has that half-annoyed, half-amused look he gets when people don't understand his humor, and he's apparently ignoring my rather loud comment. He glances over toward Leo and says, "Big hats." Then he looks around expectantly.

"I didn't write that," Sam mutters beside me.

I glare at him. "You put sunscreen on Donna."

The Governor gives a little grimace and resumes talking. About what, I'm sure I have no idea.

"In fact," Sam continues, his brow furrowed, "there weren't really any jokes in that speech."

"This is the Q&A," I say absently. "And you put sunscreen on Donna?"

"I don't know why we thought the Governor's humor wouldn't play in Texas," Sam continues sarcastically. "This is not good."

"You shouldn't be touching Donna like that. It's unprofessional."

"Josh," Sam whispers urgently, "pay attention! The Governor just made one of his little jokes."

"So? You put sunscreen on Donna!"

"About cowboy hats, no less," Sam says, grabbing me arm to drag me toward Leo's table.

"Where exactly did you put it?" I wonder. "I mean, if it was just her shoulders, then maybe -- No! I can't believe you, Sam!"

"In Texas, Josh," Sam answers. "In a room full of ranchers, he made a joke about cowboy hats!"

Leo is already pulling the Governor away from the reporters when he catches sight of us. He waves us over.

Right before we reach Leo, I lean over and say, "Don't touch her again, Sam."

***

"Donnatella."

"For the love of God, Josh, let the woman sleep. And get off her bed."

"But, CJ, I want her on my team."

Without opening my eyes, I roll over toward the sound of Josh's voice.

"There are no teams in Scrabble," Toby says. He sounds even more irritated than usual. I feel a hand on my cheek. "And don't fondle your assistant."

I open my eyes at that. Josh is sitting on the edge of my bed, still clad in his tux. "God, Josh," I tell him, "you look hot. Really, really hot."

He does that crinkly thing with his forehead, as though he's trying to figure out what I just said.

Toby coughs.

"Yes," CJ says rather quickly. "It's 97 degrees outside. You must be burning up in that jacket."

"That too," I mutter and start to close my eyes again.

"Actually, with the heat index, it's closer to 104," I hear Sam say.

I'm not sure how it happens, but my hand seems to have found its way to Josh's hip.

My eyes spring open when Josh jumps off the bed.

"You're back," I tell him.

"Obviously."

"No, I mean--" I look at the clock on the nightstand. "The thing's not supposed to be over for another couple of hours. Why are you back?"

"It ended early."

"Well, that's not precisely true," Sam says. "It didn't end so much as it -- well, it became necessary to remove the governor from the event."

"Remove the governor?" CJ asks.

"Yes," Sam says. "The audience didn't like the joke."

"There was no joke," Toby says. "I did not write a joke."

"The governor ad libbed," Josh explains.

"Ad libbed?" CJ sounds panicky. "How bad was it?"

"It wasn't bad," Sam says. "I thought it was kind of funny actually."

"Oh, God," CJ groans. "That bad."

"He said he doesn't like ugly hats," Josh tells us.

"See," Sam says, "you're telling it wrong. You're blowing the punchline. What Governor Bartlet said was that he didn't campaign in Texas more because he doesn't look good in big hats."

CJ sighs. "Well, this is going to be a thing."

"So we got him out of there, and now you and Toby can spin it." Josh sits down on the bed next to me. "And I want Donna on my team."

***

"Blame the speechwriter," CJ suggests. She has dragged the quasi-armchair over next to the small table to facilitate the Scrabble playing.

She and Toby -- who is in what looks like an uncomfortable wooden chair -- voted down my suggestion that we play on the bed.

Scrabble, I mean.

Donna liked the idea but was dragged bodily from beside me by CJ and deposited in another chair. She is currently seated across from me, which leaves me free to stare at her halter top while she studies her tiles.

Sam has been relegated to the edge of the bed, where he watches us hopefully. We're not letting him play.

Toby, who is annoyed with the entire situation, counters, "I'm the speechwriter."

"So?" CJ shrugs. "Take one for the team."

"Hey," I interrupt, still fascinated with Donna's clothing. Or lack thereof. "We should make this game more interesting."

"Or," Toby replies in that irritated tone, "we should stop playing this ridiculous game and figure out how to spin the hat joke before seventy-five ranchers sic those, you know, horned beasts on the Governor."

"I'll play if Toby doesn't want to," Sam offers eagerly.

"Longhorns," CJ corrects.

Donna perks up. "Longhorns are the mascot of the University of Texas."

"Whatever," Toby dismisses the comments with a wave of his hand. "Large, unruly beasts will be unleashed on the unsuspecting populace."

Sam grins. "How much bourbon have you had there, Toby?"

"Not nearly enough."

"Strip Scrabble," I suggest.

CJ is still giving Toby an amused look. "You're on the sixteenth floor of a hotel, Toby. Unless these cattle can work an elevator--" She stops short and looks at me. "Did you just say Strip Scrabble?"

"Yeah," I grin.

"How would you even play that?" Donna wonders.

"You," CJ says, before I can answer, "are a tool of the patriarchy."

Toby rolls his eyes. "Vive la revolution," he intones.

Sam offers, "Well, you could assign various values to each article of clothing. You know, depending on how many points you get from each..." He trails off uncertainly as we all stare at him. "What?"

"We're not playing Strip Scrabble," Toby answers evenly.

"Why not?" I whine.

CJ whacks me in the arm. "Cut it out."

"Can we get this Godforsaken game over with?" Toby asks.

Donna grins at him and puts her first word on the board.

I nearly whimper when my foggy mind interprets the word: "Sexy."

CJ pales and gives Toby some sort of look that I probably couldn't understand, even if I weren't staring, slackjawed, at my assistant. Who, I should point out, is giving me something of a coquettish look across the game board.

Sam is craning his neck to see. "That's an interesting choice, Donna."

Donna beams at him. "Forty-two points with the triple word score!"

"Yes, it is," CJ mutters. "Toby, play."

With a cranky look, Toby aligns his word carefully.

And then CJ starts laughing. "Taxes? Toby!"

He blinks at her. "You have a problem with my word?"

"I was expecting something like impugn or, you know, death," she answers, still chuckling.

"Plus," Sam interjects. "You probably could've made more points if you'd spelled, say, taxation."

Toby glares at him. "That's nine letters."

"Yes," Sam nods.

"We only get seven apiece," Donna offers.

Toby rolls his eyes. "Josh. Go."

I give him a startled look. "Go where?"

CJ sighs and asks Sam, "How much did he have to drink at the thing?"

"At the fundraiser?" Sam asks.

"No, Sam, at the stud farm!" CJ answers sarcastically. "Yes, at the fundraiser!"

Sam shrugs. "Well, you said 'thing,' which is somewhat imprecise considering--"

"Sam," Toby interrupts with a pained look. "For the love of God, just answer the question."

I grin at Donna. Just because we seem to have some sort of unbreakable eye contact thing going on. It's kind of sexy. "Or you could just ask me," I point out.

"They don't believe you, Josh," Donna answers.

"Why not?"

"Because," she explains, "as soon as you have two drinks, you start to lie about how many you've had."

"I do not!"

CJ waves an impatient hand at me. "It's your turn, Joshua."

"I don't know," Sam says from the bed. "Maybe three beers? Four?"

Toby is staring at me, but I just shrug and busy myself studying the Scrabble tiles. And then I grin, because it's just too perfect. Sam, at least, will appreciate this word.

I very deliberately place the tiles on the board, then sit back and smirk at Donna.

She reads the board, then raises an eyebrow at me. "Thigh?"

Behind me, Sam starts to laugh. Giggle, even. And they think I'm the one who had too much to drink at the thing.

CJ's eyes get very wide. "Joshua..."

I am still staring at Donna. "Yes, CJ?"

"I'd like a word with you."

I snicker. "Okay. Feel free to just spell it out right there on the board."

Donna claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter, because CJ's giving me that Feminista Death Ray look. I can tell, even though I haven't bothered to glance away from Donna's flushed face.

CJ grabs the back of my neck and says, "I could spell it out on your body -- I don't know if I mentioned this, but I know Tae Kwon Do and Morse Code. I'm considering combining my talents here, Josh--"

I manage to tear my gaze away from Donna. "CJ! Are you threatening me?"

CJ glances over at Sam. "Yeah," she says, "at least three." Then she stands up and glares down at me. "Get your ass in the hallway, mi amor."

"Mon ami," Toby offers.

CJ tosses him a dirty look.

"For consistency," he says. "La revolution?"

"Wow," Sam grins. "You have had a bit of Bourbon, haven't you, Toby?"

Toby glowers in his general direction. "Shut up, Sam."

"No," Sam continues, oblivious to impending bodily harm. "You just made a joke. Sort of."

Donna has lost the battle with laughter and has buried her face in her arms. Her shoulders are shaking in an incredibly alluring way, and the straps of her halter top are edging away from the safety zone. I'm mesmerized.

And busted, because CJ yanks me forcibly from my seat. "Get moving, Idiot Boy."

Donna mumbles something that sounds like "Hot Boy," but she's laughing so hard I probably misheard her.

I open my mouth to ask her to repeat it, but CJ silences me with a shove in between the shoulder blades.

I can't tell you how much I'm dreading the hallway. And the probable bodily harm it will witness. I glance back and give Toby a desperate look.

But he's just leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. I can't believe it, but he actually looks amused as he watches CJ frog-march me out of the room.

I cast one last look at Donna. "But we were playing a game!"

***

"This game's no fun."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier there, Donna," Sam points out.

"That was when I had my Hot Boy to play with," I complain. "There's no Hot Boy in the room now."

"Toby, I think we were just insulted," Sam says. He sounds entirely too chipper.

"I'll try to survive the pain," Toby replies.

"I think," I say, "that it's the attitude. Definitely the attitude. Because, you know, he's not as pretty as Sam, but--"

"Pretty?" Sam says. "Did she just call me pretty?"

"Yes, she did," Toby replies. "A term generally associated with teenage girls. A term that hints at a certain lack of masculinity." Toby sounds almost cheerful.

"Toby's solid," I decide. "Dependable. Toby's the guy you go to in a crisis, like if the governor tells a joke and the Hot Boy breaks your heart."

"Please," Toby says, "Donna, promise me that you will never involve me in this pathetic whatever-it-is you and Josh seem to be doing."

I rest my head in my hands, close my eyes and imagine many things Josh and I could be doing. None of them are pathetic.

I open my eyes and examine the room carefully. "The bed's not big enough for the three of us," I decide.

Toby starts coughing, and Sam turns several shades of red.

"The three of us?" Sam asks in a funny voice. He reminds me of Rocky the Flying Squirrel when he talks like that.

"Me, Josh and Josh's ego," I explain.

Toby seems to find this amusing. So does Sam. "I can't wait to share this conversation with Josh," Sam says.

"If you so much as hint at any part of this conversation with anyone, including Josh," Toby tells Sam, "I will personally guarantee that you never work in Democratic politics again."

"What if I promise to wait until after the, you know, inevitable happens?" Sam asks.

"There is no inevitable," Toby answers. "CJ's taking care of that right now."

"I don't know, Toby," Sam says. "I think this is beyond CJ's control."

"You don't know CJ as well as I do," Toby replies. "By the time she's through with Josh, he'll be afraid to look at any woman, much less his assistant."

"Josh," I say. It comes out sounding like a sigh. "Joshua Lyman." I drag each syllable of my Hot Boy's name out as much as possible. "A beautiful name for a beautiful man."

"Hey!" Sam protests. "How come Josh gets to be beautiful and I'm just pretty? That's hardly fair. Or accurate."

I smile at Sam. "You can't swagger," I explain, "and you don't smirk. And you don't have those arms. I love those arms. And the eyes. His eyes are amazing."

Sam considers this for a minute. "Well, okay. Josh has nice eyes; I concede that point."

"And his neck. I love his neck. Also his hands. Have you ever noticed the way he sort of twirls his pen around in his fingers when he's thinking? My God, what he must be able to do when--"

"Donna, be quiet _now_ ," Toby says.

"But I was explaining why--"

Toby runs his hands across his face. "I do not want to be part of this conversation," he says. "Dealing with lovesick staffers is not in my job description. They do not pay me enough for this."

"They don't pay me at all," I point out. "But everybody's nice, and I get to look at my Hot Boy all day, so--"

"That's it," Toby says. "Sam, leave the room."

"What?" Sam asks. "Why?"

"Because Donna and I need to have a little talk."

***

"You and I need to have a little talk, mi amor," CJ says as she lets the hotel room door slam behind us. She's still holding me by the scruff of my neck as she marches me a few paces down the hall before bouncing me off the wall.

"Ouch! CJ, what is your problem?"

All of that marching is making me dizzy. I'll just lean here and wait for the striped wallpaper to stop waving around like that.

"You," CJ says with an emphatic poke into my midsection, "are an idiot."

I pout at her. Well, at one of her. She's kind of... twins right now. "I am not," I answer defensively. "Do you want to know how much I'm not? I'm in MENSA. I'm actually a member of MENSA." That last sentence tripped me up a bit, which kind of ruins my point, but I'm finding it quite funny. In fact, I can't stop snickering even though CJ looks incredibly unamused.

"When the revolution comes," CJ intones, "you will be the first person I toss to the, you know..." She waves her hand around ineffectually. "The alligators."

I crinkle my forehead at the twin on the left. "The alligators?"

"You know what I mean."

"We're in Texas," I point out to CJ. Half of CJ. The CJ on the right.

"So?"

"So, shouldn't it be the Longhorns?"

"Whatever," she answers impatiently. "Keep your hands off of Donna."

I may be grinning stupidly. "Did you see those shorts?"

"Oh God," CJ mutters.

"They're short shorts. And she's got really long -- Hey!" I point at her, but she's closer than I thought and I end up nearly taking out her eye.

"Joshua!" CJ yelps as she smacks my hand away. "I was not kidding about the Tae Kwon Do. You want me to bring the revolution right now?"

I blink a couple of times to try to clear my head. It doesn't work. "What revolution?"

"Feministas Unite, Down with the Patriarchy -- that sort of thing," CJ says. "Donna noticed a thing earlier and -- would you stop smirking? You are not going to touch her. Or look at her like-- like-- like that anymore!"

"That reminds me," I say. "Why couldn't you do each other?"

CJ stares at me. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"In Austin. You know, with the half-naked and the sun?" I'm gesturing in the general direction of her chest, and CJ glares at me again.

"Joshua, you are a disgusting little man."

"You let Sam touch you," I accuse. "And you let him touch Donna!"

"Oh for the love of -- You're talking about the sunbathing thing?"

I push myself away from the wall and nearly stumble into CJ. She steadies me with one hand. "CJ," I grin up at her, "what was the biniki-- bikiki--" I can't seem to spit it out.

"Bikini?" CJ supplies in this exasperated tone.

"Yes," I nod a few times. "That. What was Donna's like?"

"Joshua," CJ takes my shoulders and shakes me a bit. "You need to focus."

"On what?"

"On Donna."

I grin again. "Okay. Those shorts--"

CJ squeezes the hell out of my upper arms when the hotel room door opens and Sam stumbles out. Then she rolls her eyes at him and turns back to me, about to continue her lecture.

"Sam," I say, "is she still wearing the shorts?"

"Yes," Sam grins.

"And the halter top?"

"Josh!" CJ yells into my ear.

"Ow!" I yelp, clapping one hand to the side of my head to protect my eardrum.

"Donna is vulnerable right now," CJ says.

She is? I glance over at Sam. "She is?"

"Yes," Sam nods, looking very wise. "Remember the whole Dr. Free Ride thing?"

"Oh," I say seriously. "That was only forty-three days ago."

CJ groans. "You've been counting the days?"

"She came back to me on--"

"The campaign," CJ interrupts fiercely. "Donna came back to the campaign, Josh."

I give a careless shrug. "It was forty-three days ago." Then I look down and attempt to read my watch. "Wait -- is it after midnight? 'Cause then it would be..." I look to Sam for help.

"Forty-four," he supplies happily.

I grin and turn back to CJ. "Forty-four days ago."

"Whatever, Josh," she says. "Just think about it -- she's only been away from him for forty days. She's still -- don't even think about interrupting to correct the amount of days, Joshua -- vulnerable. You don't want to hurt her, do you?"

"No!" I answer quickly. "I don't ever want to hurt Donna."

CJ makes a sound somewhere in the neighborhood of a whimper before she glances at Sam. "Go down to the front desk and get me some aspirin."

"Ah," he nods. "For these two for the morning? That's awfully sweet of you, CJ."

"The aspirin's for me, Sam."

"Oh." He turns to go. "Well, okay, then."

CJ is still holding my biceps. She is freakishly strong. "Joshua, you can't get drunk and hit on your assistant, okay?"

"Okay," I agree easily.

She narrows her eyes. "Joshua..."

"I can do it sober, though, right?"

"Josh! No, you can't do it sober--"

"Actually, I do it pretty good sober. Outstanding, even. Possibly--"

"Joshua Lyman, shut up!"

Wow.

I stare at her in awe -- that was really loud.

"Joshua," CJ says in this very quiet tone that's ten times scarier than all the shouting. "You remember what I warned you about when you first introduced me to Donna?"

I nod. "You said to keep Mandy out of the office for a while or she'd--"

"Not that," CJ sighs. "The other thing." She gives me this expectant look.

"Oh," I say. "The kneecaps."

"Yes."

"You're going to break them."

"Yes. Do you remember why?"

"If I hurt Donna, you'll break my kneecaps," I answer obediently.

"Exactly. What did I say about hitting on your assistant?"

"When?"

"Thirty seconds ago, Josh!"

"That Donna's vulnerable and I might hurt -- Oh."

CJ nods slowly. "So for the continued health and well-being of your kneecaps, you are not to touch, fondle, gaze or do anything else to your assistant -- and by that I mean Donna -- ever. Got it?"

I think I'm pouting again. "Yes."

"Good. Now get inside and tell Donna good night."

***

"All right, Donna," Toby begins, "I need you to be sober now."

I think this over. "Not sure I can manage that at the moment, Toby."

"Let me put it another way then. Josh needs you to be sober."

"Well, why didn't you say so? Okay." I suddenly feel remarkably clearheaded.

"You're new to politics," Toby says. "I understand that. And it's remarkable what you've managed to accomplish since you got here. Josh is much easier to work with these days."

I nod. "I organized the office. Hell, I created the office. It was just a bunch of boxes and phones. I made sense of it. Plus I got rid of Mandy."

"You what?"

"I wished her away. I went back to my hotel room every night and said, 'I wish Mandy'd go away,' and now she's gone."

"We needed Mandy."

"But she made Josh unhappy. She yelled at him. And not in the good way I yell at him either."

"Donna, try to focus here. You have to understand about political realities. Josh is not an easy man to get along with."

I nod. "This is true," I say. "But he's easy to fall in love with. That's kind of strange, isn't it?"

"Donna, listen to me carefully: Do not ever use the words 'Josh' and 'love' in the same sentence. It's dangerous."

"Um." I may have overestimated my ability to sober up. "Dangerous and Josh." I contemplate the possibilities. They involve silk. Also chocolate.

"Josh," Toby continues, "makes enemies."

"Well, yeah," I agree. "But they're all Republicans."

"Not necessarily. And enemies can be dangerous no matter which party they're with."

"They better not try to hurt my Joshua. I'll make 'em pay if they try to hurt my Joshua."

Toby stares at me for a moment. "I really think you would," he says. "But you see, Donna, the problem is that you're what they'd use to hurt Joshua."

I must look as confused as I feel here because Toby goes on. "You're a young, attractive woman. You're someone who basically wandered in off the street and ended up working for the senior political director for a presidential campaign. If you and Josh -- do you have any idea what that looks like?"

"True love?"

"It looks like Josh picked up some blonde bimbo off the street and is dragging her around the country at the expense of the Democratic Party."

"The Democratic party isn't paying my expenses. Nobody's paying my expenses. Well, except for the money Josh gave me when he bought my car."

Toby gives me this look, like he's waiting for me to figure something out. It takes a minute, but I get it. "Oh, right. So people would think Josh is paying me to sleep with him. Well, that's just ridiculous."

"I know that, but--"

"I'd sleep with Josh for free."

"Don't ever say that in front of people," Toby warns.

"But I don't want people to think--"

"All right. Listen carefully. This is how we keep people from thinking that. You keep a very low profile. You stay out of photographs. You stay away from reporters. You do not ever, ever talk about Josh to anyone other than members of the senior staff. You do not say 'Joshua' in that tone you were using a minute ago. Do you understand me, Donna?"

"Can I call him Hot Boy? 'Cause he is and--"

"No!"

"Well, he is."

"Donna, for the love of God, this is for Josh's benefit. As much as I hate to admit it, the man has a future in Democratic politics. As long as the two of you don't do something impulsive and end up destroying his career, probably taking the rest of us down with you."

"No, we're going down alone." With the chocolate, I think. And the silk.

Toby looks as though he's going to start banging his head against the wall. "Donna, for the last time, let me explain this. You and Josh can absolutely not--"

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't look good."

"We're consenting adults."

"That's what worries me."

"We're not breaking any laws."

"This is about politics. It's about perception. Laws matter very little to the kind of people Josh antagonizes."

"Josh is very smart, you know, Toby."

"So he keeps telling everyone."

"He went to Harvard and to Yale. Both. And he was a Fulbright scholar."

"So he claims."

"I'm just saying he's smarter than the people he antagonizes."

"Donna--"

"I'm just saying, Toby."

"And I'm just saying that the people he antagonizes don't play fair. They'd hurt him, Donna. They'd hurt you both."

"Oh, Toby, that's sweet. You really like us."

"No, Sally Field, I'm only trying to make sure you two idiots don't cost us the election."

The door opens, and CJ enters the room. My Hot Boy is behind her, looking all sad. He needs cheering up, so I jump out of my chair and throw my arms around him. "Josh," I say, "guess what? Toby likes us."

That must make him happy too cause he grins at me. "Donnatella Moss," he says, "you are drunk."

"Big deal. So are you."

"Yes, but I'm a politician. I can hold my liquor."

"You cannot. And anyway, I can hold more liquor than you can."

"Wanna bet?"

I rush to the mini-bar, grab the rest of the drinks and set them on the bed. "You're on," I tell him.

In the background, I think I hear both CJ and Toby groan.

***

I really need another drink. My throat is positively parched. I'd grab another drink from the minibar, but I can't seem to move.

Because Donna is bending over to peer into the depths of the minibar, and it's all I can do not to groan. Or, you know, forsake my kneecaps and drag her into my hotel room. It's just down the hall.

I think.

Hmmm... I honestly have no idea where my hotel room is. Or my key. I should probably be more concerned about that, but Donna's long, alabaster legs are right in front of me, stretched out and--

Then she straightens up with a handful of tiny liquor bottles, tosses them on the bed, and says, "You're on."

I ignore the tortured moans from the killjoys in the corner and grin at Donna. Did I mention that she's standing beside the bed, hands on her hips, with a saucy grin in place? She is so hot.

"Josh," CJ says. "We're playing Scrabble, remember?"

"That's boring," I answer. I'm still staring at Donna, and she's still staring right back.

"Yeah," Donna nods. Then she lights up. "We could make it more interesting--"

"We're not playing Strip Scrabble," Toby practically shouts. "Now get your asses over here."

"No," I say. "We're playing our own game."

I can see CJ -- there's only one of her right now -- out of the corner of my eye. She drops into the armchair and buries her face in her hands. "Their own game," she mutters.

Donna nods at me. "Where should we play our game?"

"The bed, of course."

"The bed," CJ repeats. She sounds kind of... strangled or something. I'd worry, but I'm sure Toby's on it.

"How should we do this?" Donna asks, taking a step closer to me.

I'm having some trouble breathing. I reach for her hand and tug her toward the bed. "Lay down with me."

"Toby!" CJ yells. "Do something!"

The sudden mental image of an Avenging Toby sets me scooting backwards on the bed, away from Donna. Only I seem to have misjudged the amount of bed I have left, so after a brief, gravity-defying moment where I hover on the edge, arms flapping, I fall unceremoniously to the floor.

"Josh!" Donna scrambles to the edge of the mattress and peers down at me. "Are you okay?"

"Ouch," I answer.

"Come back to bed," she says.

Suddenly, CJ is towering over me, directing a threatening look at my knees. I roll over onto my knees and push myself upright. "Wait a second--"

"Joshua--"

"I'm not doing anything!" I protest.

CJ narrows her eyes. "Three feet, Joshua."

I can manage a smirk, even in my advanced stage of drunkenness. "Is this some crazy-ass Catholic school thing?"

She nods slowly. "You want me to tell you what I did to little Patrick O'Malley when he ignored my rules?"

I swallow hard. "No."

"Three feet."

"Yes, CJ," I nod. Then I pull myself onto the bed and settle gingerly at the opposite end as Donna. "See?"

CJ gives me one last glare, then returns to the Scrabble board.

I turn to Donna, who's giving me this sexy grin. She holds my gaze as she lowers her body down to lie on her side, propping her head on her arm. She uses her free hand to trace little patterns on the bedspread between us.

I think I'm drooling.

***

"This," CJ says, "is a spectacularly bad idea."

Josh and I have positioned ourselves on opposite ends of the bed, a dozen tiny bottles from the mini-bar between us. Josh keeps looking at my legs, which makes it hard to carry on a conversation.

"No," Toby replies in a very quiet voice, "let them get drunk."

"They're already drunk," CJ says. "If they drink any more, they'll...oh."

"Exactly."

Josh leans toward me and whispers conspiratorially, "They think we're lightweights. They think we're gonna pass out."

"We're not lightweights," I whisper back.

"CJ's worried I'll hurt you. You're very vulnerable right now."

"Am not."

"'S'what I said."

"I'm not vulnerable, CJ," I yell.

"Oh, God," she mutters. "Joshua Lyman, I will kill you."

"Don't call him Joshua, CJ," I tell her. "He has enemies."

"What?" CJ asks.

"I'll translate later," Toby replies.

"I have enemies?" Josh asks. "Cool."

I nod. "Lots of enemies. I'm gonna hurt 'em. Nobody attacks my Hot Boy."

"Your what?"

"You're my Hot Boy. You were my Hot Boy Joshua, but Toby says I shouldn't call you that."

"Toby's wrong."

"Oh, good. 'Cause he had me worried."

"Don't worry. I know exactly what I'm doing." He's got one of the bottles in his hand, and he's doing that twirling thing again. I find it strangely mesmerizing.

"Yeah," I say. I sound breathless. "I'll bet you do." I find it necessary to take my first drink at this point. I empty the bottle rather quickly, as it turns out.

Josh is staring at me again. This time he seems to have moved from my legs to my mouth. "Oh, God," he mutters.

"Your turn," I tell him.

I swear he polishes off the next bottle in one gulp. And without ever taking his eyes off me. I can't take any more of this; I have to touch him. I sit up on my knees, lean over and undo the first two buttons of his shirt. "I've been wanting to do that all night," I explain.

He glances over toward CJ and Toby, who seem to be having an intense conversation of their own. "We have to get away from them," he tells me.

"Really. They're no fun. They won't let us play Strip Scrabble."

"Strip Scrabble's a fun game."

"I could beat your ass at Strip Scrabble," I say.

"Could not."

"Wanna bet?"

"Okay. Winner brings the loser coffee."

"It's always coffee with you."

"You want something else instead?"

"I want many things, Joshua."

"I can provide them all, Donnatella."

"I'm sure you can." This calls for another round of drinks.

We look at each other and grin.

"So," Josh says.

"So," I answer.

"We need to, you know, find a quiet place to--" For some reason, he seems at a loss for words.

"Work. If CJ and Toby ask, we need to work."

"On the thing. For the governor."

"Right." I am smiling. He's so damn smart. He's a political genius, this man. "The thing for the governor."

Josh takes my hand, as we head for the door. "CJ," he says. "Donna and I are going back to my room because we have to work."

"On the thing," I add, "for the governor."

That's when Sam comes back in.

"Quick," CJ calls out to Sam, "block the exits! Don't let them leave."

I'm thinking maybe Josh's plan isn't as subtle as I originally thought it was.

***

I can't believe my plan didn't work. I'm a master politician, dammit. I watch CJ, mouth agape, as she barks orders to Sam like a drill sergeant.

Sam, startled, stands stock still in the doorway and stares at us.

I take advantage of the momentary lapse in, you know, all the shrieking, and grab Donna's hand. "Plan B," I whisper to her.

"Good idea." Donna tugs me back towards the bed. "What's Plan B?"

"Wait till CJ falls asleep and meet me in my room. For..." I can't seem to find the proper phrase, but judging from the look on Donna's face right now, she understands.

"I understand," she says. "But when is CJ going to fall asleep?"

I frown. "I don't know. Soon, I hope."

Donna brightens, "We should go to bed now!"

"Donna," I whine, "you're taunting me."

"No, I'm saying we," she explains with a sweeping gesture that, I assume, includes Toby, CJ, and Sam.

"Good idea," I admit.

She nods glumly. "It's still going to take her a while to fall asleep."

I pout. "I liked Plan A."

"Me too. It was more instantas -- instaton -- It was faster."

I try to do the smirking thing. "You like it fast?"

Donna leans closer. "Fast can be very, very good."

I'm breathing hard at this point, which is probably why I don't hear CJ marching toward us. "Joshua Lyman, you are going to be hobbling out of this room if you don't let go of Donna right this second."

"CJ," Toby says, "I'm pretty sure assault and battery charges would play worse than--"

"Don't even say it," she interrupts. "Don't even think it."

From the doorway, Sam offers, "I think they're already thinking it."

"Sam!"

Donna grins. "We're working. On the thing."

I nod emphatically. "For the governor."

CJ rolls her eyes. "Neither of you can lie worth a damn. You, my friend," she says, poking me in the arm, "are never allowed near the reporters. Are we clear?"

I ignore her words. "Hey," I say with a subtle glance at Donna, "I have an even better idea than Strip Strabble."

"Scrabble," Toby sighs.

"That's what I just said," I point out haughtily. I'm still holding Donna's hand, and her fingers are tickling the back of my hand. I'm having trouble concentrating on stringing words together into sentences. "Strip scrabble," I repeat carefully.

Donna shifts beside me, offering me a tantalizing glimpse of the creamy curves under her halter top, and I lose my train of thought entirely.

"Josh?" Sam prompts. "You said you had a better idea?"

"Huh?"

Donna grins at me. "Your plan -- I mean, your better idea. Than Strip Scrabble. At which I could easily beat your ass."

"You can easily--"

"Joshua!" CJ yells.

I give her an exaggerated sigh. "I have a better idea than Strip Scrabble."

Toby's pained voice floats over from the corner. "I don't think you could have a worse idea than Strip Scrabble."

"My plan -- my idea," I say, "is that we go to bed."

Donna clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles.

Toby groans, Sam looks befuddled, and CJ takes another menacing step toward me.

"No," I tell CJ. "Not we." I wave a hand around in the space between Donna and me. Turns out, though, there's not much space there, and my hand brushes against her navel. I'm not sure which one of us whimpered. "Just--" I stop and swallow hard. "Just all of us go to bed."

"Together?" Sam asks, brow furrowed.

"Sam, you're not helping," Toby remarks. "Please leave."

"You're kicking me out?" Sam asks. "I'm just standing here all nice and you're kicking me out?"

"Yes," Toby answers. "I already have my hands full with these two idiots."

"You have your hands full?" CJ scoffs. "You haven't lifted a finger."

"Well," Toby answers with a mean little grin, "since the revolution is coming and all, I thought I'd let the womenfolk handle it."

"Yes," Donna chirps, "I'll be happy to handle it. Josh and I will just--"

"No!" CJ and Toby yell in unison.

Sam raises a tentative hand. "I have an idea."

CJ glowers at him. "What?"

"I could take Josh to bed," Sam suggests.

"Hold on," I say, lifting a defensive hand in front of me. "There will be no taking Josh to bed."

Sam blushes. "No, I meant--"

"Sam," Toby interrupts. "Go away."

"You're a very rude person, you know that, Toby?"

"I could take Josh to bed," Donna offers.

"I," Toby says impatiently, "will take Josh to his room and, if he cooperates, I may even shove him in the general direction of his bed. However, if he so much as glances back over his shoulder at a certain woman, I will drop kick him out the sixteenth story window so he can be trampled by the Longhorns which are most assuredly roaming the streets of San Antonio in packs. Comprennez?"

I blink. "What?"

Donna squeezes my hand. "You go with Toby," she explains. "I'll see you, you know, later. To do that thing."

"There will be no doing that thing," CJ interjects, dropping one arm around Donna's shoulder as Toby beckons from the doorway.

"Oh!" I bring Donna's hand up to my mouth and gently kiss her wrist. "G'night, Donna. Sleep well." And then I grin at her.

Plan B rocks. Now we just have to wait for CJ to fall asleep.

***

CJ thinks I'm asleep.

I'm not, of course. I'm waiting for CJ to fall asleep. Then I'll sneak out without her knowing, and I can go help Josh with the thing for the governor.

I may be giggling. I should stop that. If I don't stop that, CJ will know I'm not asleep and I'll never hear the end of it.

I wish CJ would fall asleep. She drank almost as much as I did; I don't know how she can keep her eyes open. I'd be asleep myself if I weren't so, you know, anxious. Yeah, that's the right word. I'm anxious. I'm anxious to go help my Hot Boy Joshua with the thing.

I could give him lots and lots of help. The first thing I'm going to help him with is his clothes.

Josh wears way too many clothes.

I can so beat his ass at Strip Scrabble.

I'm giggling again. Can't help it. Josh makes me laugh. He can bring the banter, that boy. That Hot Boy.

If I close my eyes, I can picture him. He's still wearing that white shirt. Just that white shirt, nothing else.

I may be whimpering.

Why doesn't CJ fall asleep? She's being very uncooperative tonight.

Josh is wearing his white shirt, and he's untying the straps of my halter top. If I close my eyes a little tighter, I can picture it more clearly.

Josh is kissing me. I'll just rest my head on the pillow so I can picture it all more clearly.

Josh is kissing me...

***

I'm very dizzy.

It's disturbing to me that I'm laying down and I'm still dizzy. The room is just doing these unnerving loops while I try my best to stay stationary. And, you know, awake.

Because Donna's coming. Donnatella Moss, in her hot little shorts, is coming to my room to...

Wow.

Just... Wow.

I'm going to be allowed to take those shorts off of her.

I'm laying here drunk, turned on, and alone. Also moaning at the ceiling. If Donna doesn't get here soon, this is going to be rather a pathetic scene.

God, I'm drowsy. I wish the room would just stay still for a second so I could close my eyes.

I struggle my way out of my tuxedo shirt, then unbutton my pants. It's far too much effort to remove them entirely, so I just leave them and concentrate on kicking my shoes off.

Then I roll over to face the door. 'Cause Donna's coming to me. Donna, Donna, Donna. Donnatella in her hot shorts.

I'm just going to lay here and rest until she gets here. Save my strength.

I'll just, you know, wait for her right here on the bed.

I'll close my eyes and imagine what it'll be like to touch her finally. To kiss her.

Wow.

Donna.

I'll just lay here and wait for the knock at the door...

***

God, I have a headache.

Too many trips to the mini-bar yesterday, I suppose. I keep thinking that I forgot to do something last night. I don't know what it could be though. I didn't have to work. Josh went to that thing with the governor and... Josh. In the tux. Looking hot.

And then he came back, and we -- we were going to -- but I fell asleep, so we didn't.

Oh, hell.

Damn.

What was I thinking?

The very idea of -- it's a ridiculous idea. You know, I'm pretty sure that I misunderstood him. He can't have wanted to -- He wouldn't have -- It's too absurd.

Although maybe it's not completely without merit. I mean, he was hot and -- Oh, God! I said that, didn't I? "Hot Boy Joshua." I said that to his face, didn't I? He is never going to let me live that down.

I'll show him. Let him once mention that I called him Hot Boy, and I will remind him about his brilliant new game. Strip Scrabble? He actually expected me to play Strip Scrabble?

I could so beat his ass at Strip Scrabble. If it existed.

And it's just as well there's no such game.

I can't believe I fell asleep. I could have spent the night -- I am not going there. I am absolutely not going there.

And anyway Toby said something. What did Toby say? Oh, right. Toby said that Josh and I shouldn't even think about this because Josh has enemies and they'd use it against him. Sadly, now that I'm relatively sober, I can see his point.

I could never let Josh be hurt because of me.

CJ stumbles out of the bathroom -- as I remember, she made quite a few trips to the minibar herself -- just as I start crying. She hands me a glass of water and two aspirin. After I take the aspirin, she sits down on the bed beside me and holds me while I cry.

***

I am hating life right about now.

I blame Sam, of course, because he let me drink... I don't know, maybe three Shiner Bocks at the stupid thing. The thing for raising money. Fundraiser.

My brain is moving at quite a leisurely pace today. I think it's still asleep. At any rate, all I know is I woke up in my undershirt and tuxedo pants with one hell of a hangover. There was some vomiting, which is always fun, and then some general malaise and moaning.

Now it's almost ten and Leo threatened me with death if I didn't show up in his room immediately. I'm thinking death would probably be preferable, at this point, to living with this headache. It's also possible that I did something incredibly stupid last night while soused and am about to have my head handed to me.

I have this problem when I drink more than a couple of beers -- I don't remember much the next day. Last night, for instance, I clearly remember that Donna had some very short shorts on, CJ threatened my kneecaps for a reason I can't quite recall, and we may or may not have played a game. I think it was Scrabble.

Anyway, I stand under the shower's steaming spray for about ten minutes, then pull on my oldest, most comfortable pair of jeans and a henley.

Leo's waiting for me, along with CJ, Sam, Toby, and Donna. They all look a little worse for the wear -- except Leo, of course. Donna's eyes are really red, so when I pour myself a glass of water from the room service tray, I bring her one and settle in next to her. "Drink this," I tell her.

She gives me this look I can't quite understand and says, "Thank you."

CJ groans, and Toby elbows her.

I give them a puzzled look. "You feeling okay, CJ?"

She opens her mouth to answer, but Toby jumps in, "She's upset about the revolution."

I blink. "The revolution?"

"Feministas Unite," CJ mutters. "And the hat joke."

"Wait, the Feministas are uniting over the hat joke?"

"The Feministas aren't uniting," Sam explains. "And the hat joke is a whole other thing."

"It's a thing?" I sigh. "It's really a thing?"

CJ glares at me. "Yes, it's a thing. The State Majority Leader released a statement about it. Apparently, the governor's joke was insensitive and thoughtless."

"Hold on -- the Republicans are whining about a joke not being politically correct?" I ask, incredulous. "In what crazy-ass alternate universe did I wake up today?"

Leo shrugs. "Welcome to Texas, Josh."

I sigh. "I hate Texas."

Beside me, Donna says, "I kind of like it, actually."

I'm about to ask her something -- her tone of voice is unfamiliar to me; sad or something -- but CJ gestures to the door and says, "I need you, Josh."

I nod and push myself to my feet. Something's nagging at me, but I can't quite grasp it. I have that feeling like I'm forgetting something important. And as I glance back at Donna, I think it's got something to do with her. "Donna," I begin, pausing in the doorway. "Did I--?"

"Josh," Toby interrupts softly. "Go with CJ."

I ignore him. "Donna?"

She meets my gaze sadly. "It's fine, Josh. CJ needs your help."

Something's definitely wrong with her. "Donna, I didn't do anything last night that--"

"No," she interrupts with a quick glance at Leo. "You didn't do anything last night. You were drunk."

I nod carefully. "I remember that much."

She licks her lips nervously. "You don't remember anything else?" she asks lightly, but I can tell her cheer is forced. "We played Scrabble."

There's something... I can almost... "Scrabble?"

"Yeah, all of us." She gestures towards Toby and Sam.

Sam, of course, feels the need to clarify. "Actually, you guys wouldn't let me play--"

"Sam," Toby sighs, "shut up."

"See, you're being rude again," Sam answers.

I'm not paying much attention to them, though, because Donna's still looking at me with this... look. I have the sudden urge to hug her. "Donna?" I ask again. Surely she'll tell me if there's something I need to know.

"Go," Donna answers with a small smile. "You've got work to do, and so do I."

I watch her for a moment. "Okay," I nod, and then I follow CJ into the hallway.

THE END

04.18.01


End file.
